Above the Orange Tree
by Procrastinating Penguin
Summary: If you really love someone, inscribe their name in a circle, not a heart. Hearts break - but a circle go on forever." Aoko x Kaito. /AU/
1. Prologue: Arc

**Prologue: Arc**

Disclaimer: Do not own DC/MK.

_"Sensei said that we were supposed to draw hearts, Kaito."_

_ The little girl, her hair tucked into two messy pigtails, bounded over to the crayon-cluttered desk where the boy was sitting. Tucking her hands on her hips, she leaned over, frowning at the wobbly red circle splattered across the paper._

_ The boy didn't look up, just traced the circle round and round with the red crayon._

_ "Kaito."_

_ "I don't want to do hearts." He tilted his head to look at her. The familiar elfish grin. Something was glimmering in his eyes. _

_ (Water?)_

_ And the girl thought - the boy's nose looked a little red. _

_ "But it's Valentine's Day, everyone has to draw hearts!" She came around the table and peered over his shoulders. "Here." The girl reached out, her tiny hand clamping around his on the red crayon._

_ He didn't budge._

_ "Kaito."_

_ "...break." His voice was paper-thin. She strained her ears. "But circles last forever."_

_ Taken back, her fingers slackened and she felt him took control of the crayon. Round and round the circle went, the red bleeding redder with each stroke. She was tracing the circle with him... again, and again, in the one line that had no beginning... no middle, no end..._

**A/n: This was originally going to be a mid-length one-shot. As you can probably see, my plunnies have a way of getting (sprinting) away from me. However, unlike "Writer's Block" which is just really long and "bleh" as one-shots are supposed to go, I've decided to chop this up into chapters for lighter reading.**

**Your thoughts? (And I know... starting a new story before updating my old ones... but the plunnie won't leave me alone, I swear! _) **


	2. Tangent

**Chapter One: Tangent**

_Disclaimer: DC/MC belongs to Gosho Aoyoma. _

It was early morning when they saw her.

The Nakamori girl, her notorious tousled mane tucked in a careless bun. There was a noticeable spring to her walk - a new life to the way the basket swung on the crook of her arm, the jagged edges of a freshly read letter peeking from the basket's woven eyes. The white cotton dress, swishing, murmuring, against her legs.

And it was not the sight of the girl that startled Mr. Kobeyashi, who got up at dawn each day for his morning walks and often spotted the girl on her way to the wet market. But it was a first, in a long time, that he had spotted her passing by in such high spirits.

And he thought - _the girl was happy._

Nakamori Aoko paused outside the old Nakamur's orange orchard, the towering greens protected by a makeshift wooden fence. (Ever since some rowdy teenagers had off with a couple of oranges years ago, the old man became absolutely paranoid of his orange trees - which, really, was all in vain since his toothless gum couldn't withstand the fruity flesh anyways). A breeze blew past; the planks gave an ominous groan. He could just make out the glow of their pockmarked skin under the early morning light.

"Good morning, Aoko-chan."

She startled, turned, and saw who it was. She smiled.

"Good morning, Kobeyashi-san. How is your back today?"

"Good, good... you know, the same old bones." He ambled slowly to her side, the black cane preceding each laboured step. "Not planning on stealing Nakamura's oranges, are you, Aoko-chan?" he grinned.

Her eyes widened; then, catching on, she chuckled. "Of course not. I was merely admiring them."

"'Cause if you were, I'd like some, too."

She bit back a laugh. Shaking her head, she slid the basket further up onto her arm and smiled. "I'm just going to do some shopping for dinner tonight."

"This early? The vegetables vendors wouldn't be out for another couple of hours. Only the fishermen would be there."

At this, a coy smile tugged at the young woman's face. And right before his eyes, the twenty-odd woman transformed back into little girl in the simple curve of the lips. There was a wistfulness the way the lids fell a breadth over her eyes, the bright blues of them glancing at the oranges rustling above.

"That's okay," she said softly. Then, more to herself than anyone, she whispered, "He's coming back today."

---

Midmorning, crickets singing in the courtyard.

The paper doors slid open; the golden sunlight bathing the stale air in visible pillars of where dust particles swirled. A broad-shouldered man was seated at the kotatsu, great in stature but back coiled like child. A bowl of steaming congee was held before him. There was a soft chink of a spoon grazing against the china rim - lightly skimming the mound of white in its lip. A face leaned in, inhaled, and blew - the hushed breath taking the edge off the heat. The spoon firmly in her hand, the young woman leaned in.

"Here, Tousan."

Slowly, his eyes swerved to meet hers. The blue flickered.

"Who are you?"

The light erased the shadow fleeting across her face.

"I'm Aoko... Nakamori Aoko, remember?"

"Ao...ko?" Suddenly, the man's eyes lit up. A smile - childlike in its joy, cracked across his stubbled chin. "Aoko - yes!" He lurched forward, grabbing onto her wrists. "You have the same name as my daughter! Aoko... I remember! Do you know her? She has... _blue_ eyes." His brows furrowed in thought, the vacant blues of his eyes sweeping over her face, looking but not seeing. With one veined hand, trembling, he touched the wisps of hair that had fallen from her bun. "She has brown hair... messy, just like yours." His eyes glimmered, peering directly into hers. "Perhaps you've met her?"

Her voice was small. "No, I don't think I have."

"Oh." His hands fell away. "That's too bad. I think she would've liked you, you know. She's only in high school... but she's quite mature for her age." He chuckled, a wistful rasp. "Everyone says she looks like me. But she's got Shiori's eyes."

The bowl was cooling in her hand, the rice congealing in one mushy pulp. Soon, she thought, it would be cold. And inedible.

Nakamori Ginzo leaned forward and licked up the spoonful of rice. A speck of rice dribbled from his lips and onto his chin.

"I haven't seen Aoko this morning, though," he mused out loud. "She'll be at school by now. But that's okay... she's with her best friend Kaito-kun. He's a nice boy, you know." He smiled up back at her.

"Yes," Aoko heard her voice crack.

"I know."

---

_"Kaito, everyone's looking for you!"_

_ The rosy-cheeked young woman, her hands resting in the familiar nook of her hip, peered up the tree. The tree was still. Then - suddenly, there was a poorly-stifled sneeze that rattled the leaves._

_ (A muffled curse.)_

_ "Kaito, I know that you're up there." The girl glared up into the green canopy above, trying to peer between the cracks. "You know Kobeyashi-san is going to blow a gasket if he catches you here."_

_ There was a snort. "Well, he would have to catch me first."_

_"Kaito - "_

_ Ssssshshhh – there was a flurry of leaves, something – or someone – plummeting down the thicket of emeralds and olives and (really, just green leaves). A heavy thump as something landed directly in front of her. Startled, Aoko, tottered back a step before her brain caught on – and she found herself staring into the two blue eyes._

_ Grinning._

_ "Congratulations for not being held back a year, Aoko."_

_ "Shut up!" Blushing (they boy was standing too close - didn't he mind?), she punched him lightly in the shoulder. "We're finally graduating, can't you act more mature, Kaito?"_

_ "I am mature."_

_ "Uh-huh." Her eyes flicked upward to his tousled hair, even more disarrayed than usual with bits of leaves and twigs now ensnared it them. "Honestly," she stepped forward, tiptoed and started picking off the visible pieces of green. "Only you would think about climbing trees to steal oranges on our graduation day. You're going to have to find your own spot for your time capsule, you know, the class' already buried theirs under the big sakura tree."_

_ The boy shrugged, a twinkle that she hadn't seen before glimmering in his eyes. "I guess that's too bad, then." _

_ Her hand, mid-way in untangling an especially prominent twig sticking out from behind his ear, slowed. "What's that in your hand?"_

_ "Hm- what?"_

_ "That's not -"_

_ "Oh, what? Nothing. Nothing at all. Just some oranges." Before she could take a closer look, the boy had slipped the object into his pocket._

_ "Kaito, you're not doing something bad to the tree, are you?" she frowned._

_ "No, no, of course not. I love this tree." Even so, the boy stepped back from her reach. He ran a hand through his hand, brushing away most of the debris with one careless swipe._

_ "Kaito - "_

_ "C'mon, it's graduation day! Let's go do something crazy!"_

_ And before she could react, Aoko felt the boy's hand envelope her own, tugging her along. And against her will she felt her feet shift and trail after the boy's laughing footsteps, into the sun._

_--_

It was high noon when Aoko went to the train station.

She had on a hat, a wide-lipped straw panama that shielded most of her face in shadow. She had let her hair down. They fell over her shoulders in tired ripples. She had on her best clothes - a pale blue sleeves dress that fell just below her knees. It was simple, uncomplicated.

Like her.

The platform was full of people, mostly people from the town waiting to greet their visiting loved ones. Like her. Except… well, he wasn't exactly visiting, was he? He was coming back. He had written it so in the letters… in the cleanly spaced lines and ink so fresh they glowed when she tilted the letter under the right light. A girl, hair so short it bobbed above her ear, was swerving her head in anxious arcs on the platform. Their eyes met. The girl smiled. Aoko felt her lips tug in a smile back. They were both waiting for someone.

Someone to come home.

They heard the train before they could see it. A giant red caterpillar clattering loudly against the beaten tracks, it slowed to a noisy stop before them. The train station conductor, an old man with his white beard neatly trimmed just below his chin, held up one gloved hand and bellowed, in a voice that was grossly mismatched with his slight stature, "Stand clear! The passengers are about to get off!"

As if on cue, everyone shuffled back a step. Aoko could feel eagerness buzzing in the air. Breaths held, necks stretched, the children in the back straining on their tiptoes. She felt her own stomach churn with butterflies.

The doors slid open.

People flooded out at once. Old men in business suits, young girls bouncing in flowery dresses, sharp-looking young women and men in casual clothes and backpacks slung over one shoulder, establishing their identity as merely visitors. Wives, husbands, uncles, aunts and children bubbled forth, latching onto their loved one at once, demanding to know the reason behind the loosened belt, the cropped hair, the ring on the finger and so forth. Aoko stepped away from the crowd; the scolding affections were proprietary.

And there, she saw him.

The last one to step off the train, she immediately recognized his shock of dark hair, his long legs clasped in dark grey trousers. He had on a simple white shirt. Collared.

"Kaito," she cried.

He looked up.

Without even realizing it, she was running, the legs almost moving forward on their own accord. The warm wind wheezing past her ears, she felt her lips part in a grin. Pure and joyful. Up close, she could see surprise etched in every line of his face. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around the familiar torso, and held.

"Aoko-kun," he said.

Her breath stilled.

_(What_)

She felt his body stiffen under her touch. He reached out and gently, one by one, untangled her fingers from his body. He was smiling, but it was a lop-sided smile that didn't sit right on his lips. Stepping back, Aoko saw that Kuroba Kaito had shadows under his eyes, the angles of his face a little leaner, the arc of his smile not touching his eyes. His hands were cold.

"Welcome hom-"

"You look lovely, Aoko-kun," He cut her off, his voice smooth like water. Icy. "I hope I'm not burdening you with too much trouble with me visiting."

The butterflies in her stomach stilled, fell, and crumbled.

"No," she breathed.

"Not at all."


	3. Secant

**Chapter Three: Secant**

_Disclaimer: Do not own. But who knows? Santa might be feeling extra generous this year. XD_

"The rice is delicious."

Aoko glanced down at her own bowl, the pearly white grains barely disturbed. There was a soft _clink_ as he rested his chopsticks on the bowl. The china bowls with the pretty blue swirls that danced around the rims like ocean waves. The bowls she had spent a day and half digging through the attic for, whittling an afternoon away just polishing its surface, coaxing the pretty patterns out from layer after layer of stale dust.

She delivered another mouthful of rice into her lips, chewing - but not really tasting, and swallowed.

"Thank you, Aoko." His voice was quiet. A soft baritone that had long shed its boyish pitch.

"It's nothing." The chopsticks trembled in her hands.

"You shouldn't have gone through the trouble."

"It's_ nothing_!"

Without even realizing it, she had raised her voice. Kaito was looking at her, his unapologetic blue eyes boring into hers. She felt her cheeks flush. Hastily, she thrust her chopsticks onto her bowl and got up. "I'll get us some tea," she said quickly, stacking the dirty bowls in an almost panicky frenzy. They clattered dangerously in her arms. Without waiting for a reply she retreated into the hallway, sliding the door shut with a sharp click. She fled.

_"Will you marry me?"_

She thrust the dishes into the sink, causing a thunderous crash that temporarily drowned out the mad beating of her heart. She jerked the faucet on; the water spewing forth full-blast, immediately drenching the front of her apron. She cursed, leapt back, and turned the water down.

_ "We'll leave this place together."_

The water cascaded down the tower of china, slithered down the rotund curve of rice bowls into the flat planes of dishes, dribbling across the picked carcass of fish and pickled vegetables. (_He ate the fish dear god he ate the damned fish_). The sink was filling with water. She turned the faucet off, steadying her trembling hands on the tap. Her knuckles were ghostly white under the dim florescent light humming from above.

The black kettle beckoned on the stove. She piled the tray with hot tea and rice cakes.

_"Someday."_

The hallway was dark. Ginzo slept early and she hadn't wanted to disturb him by turning on the light. Her feet dragged on the floorboards.

His silhouette, illuminated by the candlelight on the other side of the door, flickered on the screen.

And it was Kaito, wasn't it? She would recognize that hair, that slope of his jaw, the arc of his nose anywhere.

But Kaito would not sit up that straight, the legs folded so neatly beneath him. Kaito's lips would not part only to cut her down, those arms of them remaining stiffly by his side while leaving her to there to hurt.

It was not Kaito.

She slid the door open.

He was startled; that much she could see. He had been deep in thought, or staring vacantly into space... either or. She stepped into the room, meeting his weary eyes in a smile. The door slid closed behind her, she stepped over to the table.

"Thank you."

"Please."

She slid into her seat across from him.

"I made the rice cakes myself."

"Really?" He looked surprised, but only mildly so. His slender fingers moved with a stiffness as he picked up the white confectioneries, almost hesitating a moment before sinking his teeth into its soft flesh.

His teeth barely grazed the filling.

"You don't like it."

"No, no, it's wonderful... it's... it's just me, Aoko-kun. I'm afraid I've outgrown my obsession with sugar."

He smiled up at her. That same awkward smile that tried to look warm, friendly, Kaito-like but failing miserably so.

He wasn't Kaito.

"I see..."

Silence lapsed between them. The candle light wavered.

"I'm sorry, Aoko."

His voice was soft.

"Don't be."

"Aoko..."

"I'm happy for you." Her hands tightened around the cup. It burnt. "I really am."

There was a pause.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"What's her name?" and finally, she willed her eyes to look up and glanced into his.

"Ran. Mouri Ran."

Orchid.

"How is Nakamori-keibu these days?"

It was his turn to care.

"He's asleep." She sipped her tea. Bitter. "Slightly... better these days. He has his moments. But he still doesn't recognize me."

"I see."

And suddenly she wanted to slap him. Wanted to throw herself over the table and shake the man, grab his shoulders and scream _No you don't see you couldn't possible have seen_. Not through hasty scribbles on paper, not through the phone calls that started once a day to once a week and finally faded to once every three months, when formalities were all she could cling on - no he couldn't possibly have seen, not even beginning to grasp the way her father thrash around the room like a 5-year-old, shouting for his wife Shiori and daughter Aoko Aoko _where are you_ and unable to see himself in her face as she ran into room, trying to hold down his flailing arms and crying _Tousan Tousan_ I'm right there _I'm right here_.

His blue eyes were looking right at her. The anger flickered, trembled, and then died.

"I wanted you to be the first to know."

She bit into her own rice cake.

It was bland.

The silence hung, thick and tense, in the air. Aoko surveyed the man before her. No longer the laughing boy who teased her mercilessly in the middle school, Kaito was a man now. The edges of his lips, ever so subtly, tugged downward even at rest. The lines of his face were leaner, sharper.

(If she ran her hand across them now, she thought, she'd hurt herself.)

"I'm leaving tomorrow." He said, suddenly, jostling her out of her thoughts.

_ Just passing by._

"I see," she said.

But she didn't.

**A/n: I'm trying to space the chapters as closely as possible since it was originally meant to be a one-shot. And I suppose the plot might be a bit confusing as it's broken in fragments... but it'll all come together in the end, I promise! ^^**

**Like? Don't like? An absolute epic fail? Let me know your thoughts on the story so far.**


	4. Segment

**Ch. 3 : Segment**

_Disclaimer: Still do not own. Santa is not real._

_"I'm leaving this place."_

_ They were perched on the wall, a slab of grey cement layered with alternating planes of pebbly rouge and ashen white. The night was young; the stars were out, showering the couple with blinking lights that illuminated the crisp whites of their school uniform. Before them, Ekoda High towered, its windows sleepily shuttered eyes in the dusk. A day ago they would have been reprimanded for sitting on the wall (not that it had ever bothered the boy, in fact - it seemed to serve more of an encouragement). Now the ribbons clasping the one piece of paper that marked the end of their youth had been torn away and left in pieces on the muddy ground, the stitches Ekoda High retreating once more to meaningless squiggles on their shirt, all rules were off. Tonight._

_ A can of lemonade in hand, Aoko brought it to her face and closed her eyes, savouring the cold sweat that seeped through the metal and onto her cheek._

_ "Keiko's going away for the summer to Kyushu."_

_ "I'm going away forever."_

_ At this, Aoko's eyes snapped open. She turned toward her right, where a dark-haired boy was sitting a foot away. His chin tilted in a thirsty arc, those blue eyes of his gazing at the stars above._

_ (and the boy was beautiful, wasn't he? Under the pale moonlight his skin glowered an ethereal white, bathed in a halo that made him appear unreal, a phantom. His hair so carelessly tousled around his face that, on those days when the clouds drift too slowly across the sky and the teacher's voice faded to a distant drone, she couldn't but help but start picking out patterns through the chaotic curls. His limbs were long and slender, and she imagined plumes spurting from his hands, taking flight into the air and perhaps sparing one last glance at the girl left back on earth. He was changing, ever changing, only the blues of his eyes staying constant... when they gazed into hers...)_

_ "What do you mean?" she brought the lemonade to her lap._

_ "The town is two small," Kaito stretched out his arms, grazing the heavens with his fingertips. "Nothing ever goes on here. I want to go to Tokyo and make something of myself. You know... like my dad. He travelled all over the world - Europe, France, England, America... you name it, he's been there. I want to break out of this box."_

_ "But - " Aoko started._

_ Paused._

_ But what?_

_ "We've lived here our whole lives," Kaito went on. He clenched his fists, a world of stars grasped within. "The town can't keep up with us, Aoko. It's stagnant. You can't become famous in a place where you can call everyone's dogs by name. I've got to go somewhere big, like Tokyo."_

_ "Oh." She looked down, playing with the tab jutting from the can._

_ "So, how about it, Aoko? Want to go away to Tokyo?"_

_ Her head jerked up._

_ "What?"_

_ He swept in, closing the foot of space in between them so suddenly she almost toppled backwards in surprise. He was excited, shoulders taut but not tensed. She could count the stars in his eyes._

_ "We can go away together," his face beamed, almost revering back to a child in his excitement. "You and me, we can leave this place and start afresh in Tokyo. You can study at the University of Tokyo. I'll get jobs to support us. Probably start with something small - like a dish-washer or a cashier, but that won't matter. There'll be chances for us to do something more."_

_ "B-but," Aoko felt herself stammer. "What about - what about..." She trailed off, at a loss of what "it" was supposed to be._

_ "Nothing will come out of _here_, Aoko," Kaito said, staring so bluntly into her eyes that she blushed, feeling exposed... naked, almost. "I mean, think about it. Are you really going to slop through two years of college in the next town, graduate, drudge through life until Wataru-san slaps a husband on you and settle down with kids? Isn't there something more to life?" _

_ The can of lemonade biting her palm, Aoko opened her mouth - but nothing came out._

_ "Come." Suddenly, Kaito's hand enveloped her own and coaxed her off the wall and with easy leap. The juice tumbled from her grip and landed on the ground with a loud clatter, leaving a mess for the principal to seethe over - in September._

_ "Where are we going?!" Cursing the boy for his long legs, Aoko felt herself being dragged along the darkened path toward the school. Her eyes widened as they approached the doors. "Kaito - we can't go in - it's locked - "_

_ "No, its not." From out of nowhere the boy produced a hairpin and started picking at the lock one-handed._

_ "Kaito, we can't break in!" Aoko hissed._

_ "Relax." There was small click, and the door was nudged easily with one hand. "We're just going to school."_

_ Before Aoko could scrunch her brows in a disapproving frown, she was tugged forward again - and they were running, flying - almost, like air, down the hallways, round the classrooms to which the desks sat empty and the projectors blind, past the cafeteria and clattering up the staircase._

_ "Where are we going?" she panted._

_ "Up," The boy simply said._

_ They flew past the second landing - the third - and finally the fourth._

_ The path was so familiar... and yet so foreign with everything basked in darkness. Her shoes scuffed on the familiar path - a route treaded every lunch time and PE when the boy had nowhere to flee but up._

_ "The roof, Kaito?"_

_ The boy grinned, and pushed._

_ The doors certainly weren't locked this time, and they gave away to a gravel landing bathed in starlight._

_ "C'mon."_

_ Still holding hands, he led her out onto the ledge. A low slung fence nudged at their waists. It was a favourite senior hangout at lunchtime - her shoes brushed upon a splotch of pink on the ground - a notable feat courtesy of Kuroba Kaito- two April Fools _

_and one seething British exchange student ago._

_ The stars studded the sky. Beneath them, the small town of Ekoda winked sleepily._

_ "Look." Kaito's voice was in her ear._

_ And she did, at the direction to which the boy was pointing. A plethora of lights, brightly glaring - white, red, blue, orange, and so much more, in the horizon. Blurry peaks of towers soaring into the sky._

_ "Over there," he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Is a whole another world out there. A whole new world._

_ "Kaito... I - I..."_

_ She turned, catching his eyes with hers._

_ He grinned. "Don't look so grave, Aoko. You don't have to decide now. Hey, you know what?"_

_ She blinked. "What?"_

_ A cold draft at her thighs._

_ "You should really try wearing pink underwear for once."_

_ "KAITO!!"_

_ She gave chase, the skirt swishing against her legs in a familiar rhythm as she followed the grinning boy down the stairs. Round the hallway and past the empty classrooms. The boy was fast - and soon all she was relying on was his laughter, tinkling just around the corner._

_ "Kaito - you idiot - pervert -"_

_ She wasn't going to let him get away._

_ Not today._

_ The boy rounded a corner and ducked into an empty classroom. Hot on his heels, Aoko lunged into the classroom and tackled the boy before he could leap onto one of the filing cabinets ( a tactic she knew all too well). To her surprise her hands tugged onto a solid waist and they went colliding onto a nearby desk, knocking the chairs off the top with a loud clatter._

_ "God - Aoko - angry much?" the boy was laughing, struggling under her. But she held on, hands gripping onto both of his wrists and knees threaded firmly between his legs._

_ "Kaito - you got to stop flipping girls' skirts!"_

_ "I only flip yours."_

_ "That - that's not the point!" She felt herself blush._

_ They were both panting from the run, their chests fall and rising simultaneously. Aoko noticed that the boy's bangs were slightly damp. With one curious hand she reached out and brushed a strand of fallen hair from his eyes.._

_ "You're sweating," Aoko whispered, in slight awe. Kaito never broke a sweat during their mop chases._

_ "Yeah, well, you're getting faster." The boy smiled._

_ And she could see the stars in his eyes. Glittering. Aoko felt her breath flutter, caught in her throat. Silence lapsing between them, she was about to pull back and his slender fingers took ahold of hers, letting it fall from his brow to the arc of his cheeks, tracing down his jaw, resting at the base of his neck. _

_ "K - Kaito -" flustered, she could feel her cheeks flame._

_ "Aoko." And his eyes gazed directly into hers. And they were a child's eyes, filled with genuine wonder. "You're beautiful."_

_ And it seemed so natural, even though her heart was beating so madly in her chest she was sure it was audible and her knees felt as they might give away to jello any moment, to lean in - feeling the heat of his breath on her cheeks - him tilting up and she leaning down - their lips met._

_ No fireworks exploded behind her eyes. No angels sang. No elaborate colours dancing across the vast canvas of her mind as described by those paperback romance novels Keiko sneaked during class. Just Kaito. His lips, soft and warm, on hers. She slackened her hold on his wrists and she felt him sit up, resting one hand on the small of her back, drawing her deeper into the kiss._

_ And it wasn't one of those playground kisses he stole from her during middle school - the ones that grazed her cheeks or even her lips, so fast that she barely felt them before he pull away, grinning and already one foot out the door before she could go after him with her mop. It was different. Deeper._

_ After what seemed an eternity, she felt him pull away. Her eyes fluttered open._

_ There was an indiscernible expression on his face. He smiled, but it was a smile tittered on the precipice of something more. What that something was, she didn't know._

_ "It's late... we should probably go -" she felt his weight shift off the table._

_ "Wait - Kaito..."_

_ One hand shot out and tugged the boy by the elbow. Surprised, he swerved to look a her._

_ "I... I..."_

_ He waited._

_ "Don't go."_

_ The air stilled between them. Outside, even the crickets quieted down._

_ Her hand fell back to her side. Immediately she felt her cheeks flame. Stupid... stupid Aoko... she could feel him staring at her. What had she done? They were not children any more. "Don't go" was no longer something you uttered to merely turn someone's head. Not something light and shouted easily across the swings and slides for the boy to slow down, to turn back -_

_ "Aoko..."_

_ She glanced up at his voice. A thumb tilted her chin upwards._

_ A glimpse of the bluest blue - and then, the warmth of his breath, she lost herself in the kiss._

_ She felt herself pushed backward onto the desk. His lips slid down her lips, her jaw, down to the nape of her neck. His hands, slender and adroit in the art of magic, unbuttoned the first two buttons and she felt his hot breath on her collar bone. Dipping, lower and lower, onto more and more exposed flesh, untangling the question mark into a comma and then twist it into a mark of exclamation, rising and falling. And Aoko was glad it was dark, because the heavens were so clear... so blue in his eyes..._

_---_

After settling Kaito in the guest room, Aoko went to check on her Tousan before bed.

She found him sitting up in his bed, his back as straight and frigid back in the days the badge was drawn in a flash of gold and pride from his breast pocket. One paper door was slid open; the moonlight streamed through the gap, caressing the stoic lines on the man's face with pallid hands.

"Tousan?"

Quiet, as not to disturb the man, Aoko stepped into the room.

"Shiori?" His eyes swerved, slowly, to meet hers.

"No, it's me, Aoko." Gently, Aoko took the man's arms and eased them back under the comforter.

He was still staring at her.

"Tousan?"

"Aoko," he called. Her heart leapt to her throat. Slowly, he reached out one hand and laid it against her cheek.

"Why do you look so sad?"

---

His room was right down the hall.

A distance of 10 metres. 40 steps. 80 breaths.

She would not go see him.

---

_"Aoko..."_

_ "Yeah?" Her ear against his heart, Aoko could hear every pulse of his heartbeat. She didn't know that it was impossible to get drunk on air._

_ "Will you marry me?"_

_ His voice in her ear. (Did his heartbeat just pick up?) She looked up. A smile teetered nervously on his lips._

_ "We're only seventeen, Kaito."_

_ "When we get to Tokyo, we'll be eighteen."_

_ She opened her mouth, a deluge of "Touchan will kill us" "We're too young" "We just graduated from high school" and another one hundred and one excuses why they shouldn't get married hovering on the tip of her tongue. Then, meeting the earnest blues of his eyes, the words died. Turning her blushing cheeks away, she nodded stiffly._

_ "Really?" the boy asked, almost in disbelief._

_ "Well - not right now! Maybe... maybe when we're older. Someday..." Aoko stuttered, feeling embarrassed, even though it was just the two of them. "You know... after we have jobs and apartments and... and - stuff like that." She trailed off lamely._

_ "Okay, fine, when we're older." There was a rustle as she felt his arms slip away from her. Surprised, she turned. Grinning, Kaito had sat up, one pinky raised in the air._

_ "Promise?"_

_ "Kaito -"_

_ "Aoko." And he was leaning in again. "Will you marry me?" He repeated, his voice still and even. Not Kaito-like. Not this serious._

_ Biting her lip, she curled her pinky around his._

_ "Idiot," she muttered._

_ "I take that as an 'I do'." Grinning, he tilted forward and captured her fluttering breath in a kiss._

_---_

Outside, the leaves rustled.

In the darkness Aoko couldn't see much except for the faintest outlines of trees cast on the paper doors; lovingly etched onto the papyrus by the pale white hands of Luna herself. The house was so quiet - she could hear her own breath rattling in and out from her lungs.

She couldn't sleep.

_Thud_.

A door sliding open.

Footsteps. Quiet and nimble. Echoing down the hallway, pausing outside her door.

Her breath caught in her throat. She could sense him. A silhouette traced a million times in her dreams and nightmares - lingering, waiting, just breathing on the other side.

(He wasn't there he wasn't there when she opens the door the silhouette will flee -)

The footsteps continued down the hallway. There was a soft rustle.

The trees wept.

**A/n: I did not drag my feet on this chapter. Santa came and stole my plunnies so I couldn't write. So it wasn't me. Nope, not at all. *runs away***

**Any feedback is appreciated ~ Happy Holidays! ^^ (hope I didn't dampen anyone's holiday spirit with this chapter...) **


	5. Radii

**Chapter Four: Radii**

_Disclaimer: Do not own. Wee._

_"Nakamori-san! Nakamori-san!"_

_ "Coming! I'm coming!"_

_ Hastily winding her messy hair into a bun, the girl wiped her damp hands on her apron before clattering out of the kitchen, flying down the hallway toward the pounding door. She slid it open with a loud rattle._

_ "What is it?" The sun was blistering hot that morning. Brushing her hair from her eyes, Nakamori Aoko glanced up. From the scruffy black shoes, the creased navy trousers, the starched blue top, and finally the dark grey tie cinching everything in place. The cap was pulled low over the man's eyes, casting his features in unfeeling shadows._

_ "Nakamori-san," the man hesitated. "Your father... Nakamori-keibu... he -"_

_ In the background, the crickets reached a crescendo._

_---_

_ White walls._

_ White drapes. White sheets._

_ Ashen faces._

_ "Aoko..."_

_ The boy called, nudging the cup of hot water into the girl's hand. They opened and closed around the beverage weakly, if only acting out of instinct. The boy sat beside her on the row of plastic chairs. He tried to catch the girl's eyes, but the hair hid her face in a tousled mask._

_ "Aoko. It'll be... it'll be okay."_

_ There was a sudden twitch to her shoulders. She began to shake, trembling so bad that cup slipped and tumbled right into her lap, spilling water everywhere._

_ "Jesus - Aoko -" Hastily, the boy started tugging at her thin dress that was soaked through. Unfeeling, the girl gave away and tumbled right into his arms, angry red patches surfacing on her arms. "We've got to run your skin under cold water -"_

_ But the girl didn't hear him. Instead, she cowered into herself, shoulders - gently at first, then picking up in intensity as she began to heave in silent sobs. She clutched onto the front of his shirt. "Oh, God - Kaito... he can't die... can't die... please God don't let him die..."_

_ Overhead, the red light glared on._

_---_

_ In the back yard, crickets basted in the sunlight, chirping a chorus of joy; the scorching rays glittering harmlessly off their winged backs._

_ In the girl's room, a suitcase laid open on the bed._

_ Empty._

_---_

_ The train breezed into the station._

_ A girl and a boy were standing on the platform. The girl was tilting on her tiptoes, _

_adjusting the boy's rumpled collar with silent hands. She avoided his eyes, her bangs a disarrayed veil over her eyes._

_ "Aoko."_

_ In a fit of emotion the boy grabbed the girl's hands. His eyes were alit with what could only be described as youth. The girl's head snapped up, face streaked with tears._

_ "It's not over."_

_ The girl didn't reply, swerving her eyes from the boy. Biting her lips to steady them._

_ "Somehow, someday, I'll find a way." His hands tightened around hers. "It's not good-bye. I'll write. Every day."_

_ Around them, couples embraced, some in tears and others in laughter._

_ "I know," she whispered._

_ "I'll call."_

_ "Promise?"_

_ Loosening his hold, she reached out a hand, one pinky extended._

_ Their fingers intertwined._

_ "Promise."_

**A/n: Two chapters in two days - you and you guys' lovely reviews have really kicked the plunnies in line! ^^ The next chapter will probably be the last one. I already have everything planned out, but I'm really interested in how you think it might all play out. Drop me a review and there. Shall. Be. Cookies!**

**As always - Happy Reading! **


	6. Radian

**Chapter 5: Radian**

_Disclaimer: Do not own. (Because, really, who would want to see Hakuba pull spaghetti from his nose?)_

Aoko woke up early the next morning. The sky was still a haze of ashen blue, a brash stroke of azure streaking across the sky into the horizon. She washed up, tucked her hair into a bun, and took the laundry out to the front yard.

The cloth line was bare. She shook out each article clothing, took them by the corners so the cloth rippled out in the morning breeze, and threw them over the cloth line. She worked with a steadfast vigour - her limbs so rehearsed in the chore that there was pause in the flicking of the wrists, the bending and the straightening of the back, and the tautening of the shins as she tiptoed to stretch out a bed sheet.

Behind her, the door slid open a fraction of an inch. There was a crack of blue.

And then, tenderly,

it closed.

---

They ate their breakfast in silence. Kaito had not slept well, that much she could see - the shadows seemed to have darkened under his eyes. She concentrated on the wedges of pickled vegetables on her plate, chopsticks picking at them absently. Spreading them out. Like fans.

Suddenly, there was a rustle of clothes. Startled, Aoko glanced up, just in time to glimpse the flutter of Kaito's shirt as he left the room, the door left ajar. His breakfast was untouched.

"Kaito -"

His footsteps echoed down the corridor, paused, then swerving abruptly into what she knew had to be the kitchen. Aoko hesitated, then, resting her chopsticks on the table, collected herself from the _kotatsu_ and trailed after the young man.

_Clang._

_CRASH_.

A cacophony of pots - or, at least, what she hoped were pots, was banging around in the kitchen. Tentatively, she stepped into the kitchen. Kaito was at the stove, his back turned towards hers, hands rummaging through the drawers.

"What are you looking for?" Aoko found herself stopping by the doorway.

"Spatula."

_Clang. Clang. _CLACK.

She really ought to oil the hinges sometime, Aoko thought with a grimace.

"...I could've sworn it was in the second bottommost drawer..."

"I moved it," her voice was soft. " That drawers sticks so I moved everything to the top one."

His shoulders stilled, just for a fraction for a second. And there, leaning against the doorway, without the awkward obligation of eyes meeting, Aoko found herself looking, really _looking_ at the Kuroba Kaito. Kaito had always been lean, teetering on the scrawny side. Long, gangly limbs that, somehow, averted the clumsiness of adolescence and moved with the mischievous grace that left her breathless at each of their mop chases. But the sinewy silhouette was gone. His shoulders had broadened - sturdier, though nowhere close to her father's towering stature back in the glory days - he certainly wasn't going to pull off Juliet in one of their parodied school plays any more. The brisk, boyish way he moved was gone. His movements were slower, more deliberate. The poise of a man who sensed rain in his joints before the sky wept grey, before the weather forecast dictated it so. The beauty of a man who had his limbs broken, heal, and was afraid for them to break again.

The top drawer opened with a protesting groan. True to her word, Kaito plucked the sought after utensil from its mouth.

"There it is."

_It's been there. All along. _Aoko thought, but didn't say out loud. She watched quietly as Kaito went to the fridge and took out two eggs. A pan was set upon the stove, the gas flicked on with a hard jerk of the knob.

"Kaito... what are you doing?"

The eggs were cracked open. The yellow yolks, intermixed with the transparent, almost snot-like whites, slid into the hot pan with a sizzle. Soon, the rich aroma of eggs wafted through the kitchen.

"Cooking eggs." His voice was light.

Her stomach tightened. He couldn't even play the polite guest for long, she thought; was her cooking that unbearable? - Then, so soft it was barely above a whisper - she felt another stab in her stomach again -

"You never had the stomach for pickled vegetables in the morning."

Aoko felt as if she had just been slapped. A little stunned, she tottered back a step as he slid the eggs on two individual plates. Sweeping a hand across the plethora of bottles jammed in the spice rack, he took out the soy sauce and poured some on the eggs.

"It's a bit burnt... but still edible." Finally, he turned to face her. He was smiling sheepishly. A little boy offering a wreath of flowers, cautious for that pat on the head.

Swallowing the knot in her throat, Aoko smiled. "I didn't know you could cook."

He chuckled. "I didn't. I picked up things while living alone. Everything is so expensive in Tokyo... it's hard not to."

"I see. I suppose you've outgrown stealing food from others' bentos, too," she joked, ignoring the burn at the back of her eyes.

For a moment he looked surprised, revering back into a astounded child once more. Their eyes met. Then - as quickly as if someone had reached in and flicked off a switch - the lines of his face collapsed, rippling into cool dispassion once more.

"... Our breakfast are getting cold." Averting her eyes, Kaito carried the plates from the kitchen, careful to circumvent around her and disappeared down the hallway.

Aoko covered her face.

_---_

Kaito hadn't brought much with him. A single change of clothes in his thin briefcase. When she met him out on the porch, he was wearing a tie.

Kuroba Kaito, wearing a tie.

Aoko walked him to the train station - as a good hostess would, she told herself. The beaten dirt path gradually faded to paved road beneath their feet.

"The town hasn't changed much," Kaito remarked, almost absently, as they passed the grey-haired Mrs. Yamazaki going at her hedges with a large pair of scissors, cursing incoherently under her breath. His lips tugged upward.

_Nostalgia? Pity?_

Aoko couldn't read his face.

Not anymore.

"Her daughter got married last year." Aoko added. Irrelevant trivialities. Conversation for conversation's sake. "Remember Megumi-chan? She sat behind you for two years."

A grin cracked across Kaito's face.

"The Megumi Yamazaki who swore she wouldn't settle anyone unless they were tall, dark, handsome and a multimillionaire to boot?"

"She married an accountant from out of town."

"Let me guess - Wataru-san introduced them."

"Who else?" Aoko felt a grin tease upon her lips at the memory of the infamous matchmaker - Nanako Wataru - a 65-year-old woman who married every six of her seven daughters (the last fled into a convent) at the tender of ages of 25, 25, 24, 23, 19, and 18. It was not uncommon to see the old lady on the street, one hand tugging on a boy's hand and the other smoothing over another little girl's hair, shrewd eyes already calculating their compatibility and the amount of gifts they were (obligated) to give her upon their wedding day.

"Keiko's pregnant."

"Hm_."_

Silence lapsed between them. The sunny beat down upon their heads and backs. It was sunny today.

It was sunny everyday.

From afar, Aoko could hear the poorly-stifled crying of an infant. Keiko had gotten married last year. Her first baby was due soon. Had it been that long since they graduated from high school... for childhood, really? It seemed like yesterday that they were still in class, bantering raucously about who was going out with who and secretly passing notes behind the teacher's back. Keiko was going to be a mother. Koizumi Akako, her beautiful friend who had young men queue up in the hallways just to catch a glimpse of her, hadn't even bothered to complete their senior year before high-tailing it to Tokyo. Even Kaito was leaving... for good. Everyone had taken flight.

Except her.

They came by Nakamura's orange orchard. Sensing the pace beside her slow, Aoko glanced to her side. Kaito was peering into the thicket of green above them.

"Aoko."

"Yes?"

A whimsical smile teased at his lips. "Remember how we used to steal Nakamura's trees when we were in high school?"

Aoko glared. "_You_ stole oranges from Nakamura's trees. I was busy persuading otherwise."

Kaito laughed. And in that moment, she heard the boy in his voice once more. "Yes, well, you certainly didn't have any problem eating them."

"Kaito." If looks could kill, the man would drop dead right there.

He smiled. Slowly, the smile extended into a grin. Aoko's felt her heart skip a beat: she recognized that grin, the glint in his eyes.

"I bet I could still get those oranges."

"We're not seventeen anymore, Kaito!"

"Want to bet?"

Before she could rebut that, Kaito was already veering off the path, making a beeline to the orchard. He went down the fenced wall, knocking at the wooden planks with two raised knuckles, ears cocked to the side. Then, his eyes lighting up, he gave two of the newest-looking planks a push; they gave away easily, falling back to reveal a path into the orchard at once.

"_Kaito_ -"

But the man was already gone. Clenching and unclenching hands, Aoko quickly looked around her. The street was empty. A slew of creative words that she would very much like to unleash upon the man later, Aoko stepped into the opening after Kaito, careful not to snag her dress on the splinters.

"This won't take long." He was already standing by the base of the tree. He rolled up his sleeves, slackening his tie easily and tossed it onto the ground along with his briefcase. Aoko watched, agape, as the messy-haired man climbed effortlessly onto the first branch. His movements surprisingly agile.

"Kaito, wait - "

A soft laugh.

He was already gone.

Stirred, Aoko hiked the dress above her knees and grabbed onto the first branch. She climbed. The calloused bark scratched her hands, the twigs jabbing quite mercilessly into her face and arms as she climbed, higher and higher. The days of mop chases were certainly behind her - Aoko observed with a resigned grunt, struggling just to keep her balance. The man - or was it the boy? - was already somewhere up above. Out of sight. Always one step ahead.

_Damn _it - she was wearing _sandals_, for God's sake. A breeze rustled through the leaves. Strands of hair tumbled into her eyes just as her foot left the safety foothold of a hearty branch - caught off-guard, Aoko felt her sandal slip -

_Crack_.

The branch broke in her hand.

Aoko blinked.

And that was all the time it took. Air. There was air behind her. Around her. Nothing but air. She was falling backwards -

"Aoko -"

There was a flurry of greens; loud crackling as leaves were shoved aside. An arm, clasped in white, shot out - grazing her fingers. A muffled curse - then, something grabbed her, hard, by the elbow; the wind stilled by her ears. The hand jerked, gave a hard yank and pulled her upwards, and she found herself scrambling to keep up. She caught a glimpse of him - a worried face with hair fanned out in an even more anxious halo -

"Ooomph -" With a flourish Aoko tumbled right into Kaito's lap, knocking the latter's back onto the tree trunk. Hard.

"_Ow -_"

"I'm sorry -"

"I'll live." Wincing, he rubbed his back, which bored the brunt of the collision. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." Her heart was still beating madly from the close call. They were almost at the top of the tree. Kaito's shirt, which had been a crisp, starched white that morning, was scuffed with streaks of dirt and tiny scratches. Green leaves galore tangled up in his hair. Aoko let out a giggle.

"I don't think your boss would be too happy to see you like this."

Kaito blinked. Then, catching on, he smiled. "I don't think it'll make much difference - anyways, look what I've got." Almost like magic, he produced a family of oranges, brilliant emerald glittering upon their dimpled skin. Grinning, he peeled one of them and split the wedges, nudging them into her bewildered hands.

"It's still green, Kaito." She poked at them dubiously.

"Hmm, you'll be surprised."

"I see some orange ones higher up." Aoko glanced upwards. Gripping the bark of the trunk for support, she strained for the higher branch when she suddenly felt a strong arm tug her down.

"No." He said. Quiet but firm. The grin was gone.

There was something in his eyes that faltered the protest on her lips. He turned away.

"It's time to go."

**A/n: I lied****.**** Again. *runs away***

**Yes, I promised that this chapter was going to be the last. It isn't. Now... before anyone starts sharpening their pitchforks or lighting their torches- the rest of the story is **_**finished**_**. I was originally going to post it all at once - then I realize that the text gets a bit chunky, so I've decided to split it into smaller chapters. (**_**Again **_**- I know, I know, please don't kill me!) I will upload the rest of the chapters very soon. And yes, cookies have a way of speeding up this process. *smiles innocently***

**And much thanks for anyone who reviewed and indulged in guessing the ending. It's always fun to ponder how the story will turn out - and as always, Happy Reading! ^^**


	7. Circle

**Finale: Circle**

_Disclaimer: Do not own._

_"Promise me you'll never forget me, because if I thought you would - I'd never leave." - __Winnie the Pooh_

The platform was empty. The two lone actors left on stage to salvage the horrible tragicomedy gone awry. Aoko kept her eyes on the train tracks - two cold grey arteries battered with rust and wear. The elders of the town hated the train with a passion, had vehemently opposed it being built back in the day despite the mayor practically begging on his knees, pleading for the sake of the dwindling trade and _Oh-God won't-you-please-think-of-the-children._ And Aoko suddenly understood why. The train carried not only the youths away – the sons, the daughters, the sweat and tears of at least two decades' worth of memories – but the youth of the town itself. To another place, another time, another life. To the place where lights shone all night and buildings reached on and beyond the clouds – a different world where all those left behind were too weary to imagine. To fantastic to understand.

And too weary to follow.

Kaito was standing right beside her. An arm's length away. If she reached out now, she could touch him.

_"We're finally graduating, can't you act more mature, Kaito?"_

Wasn't it funny how the train tracks never cross? It would be selfish… too many lives counting on them running parallel, to ever come in contact.

Aoko swept a glance to her right. To the_ man_. The rigid lines of his back, his face. The tie.

If this was growing up, she would have never forgiven him.

"_Don't look so grave, Aoko. You don't have to decide now."_

Like her, Kaito was staring ahead. Averting her eyes.

_"We're only seventeen, Kaito."_

_"When we get to Tokyo, we'll be eighteen."_

The sandals biting her heels, the air sweet and sticky against her flesh, slowly, her hand rose into the air, fingers coiling around the sleeve of his shirt.

Kaito turned to look at her, surprised.

"Kaito - I -"

With a sudden howl, the train blew into the station, whipping her hair and dress wildly about her, swallowing the rest of her words in a cacophony of rattling and heavy mechanical grunts.

Her hand fell to her side.

"I'm sorry, the train -" he began, but Aoko shook her head. She couldn't repeat the words the second time. Instead, she reached up, straining on the tip of her toes, and kissed him.

She didn't give him a chance to kiss back. She didn't need to know. Pulling back, she saw the stunned look in his eyes.

"My apology to Mouri-san." Aoko forced out a smile.

Something flickered in his eyes. _Remorse?_

_(Shame.)_

Her cheeks were wet, vision blurring. "Give her the happiness she deserves... I wish the best for both of you. I really do."

"Aoko, I -"

"Go." And she pushed him away, toward the door. "The train's waiting."

"Aoko -" Kaito suddenly reached out, enveloping her hands into his. She started; his hands were so cold. Like ice. His eyes were burning; the blues rippling – the sky caught in a storm, a starless night, puddles of stale, grey rain - and she recognized the boy in there. And she knew that look. The very same look that once belonged to a jaunty boy who smiled easily and was generous with his laughter, five years ago, at the very same place and perhaps even the same time, clutching onto her hands with the same strength – exchanging promises of the stars, the moon, the heavens and even more. It was youth. It was hope. It was folly.

She never wanted the moon or the stars.

"Forgive me."

His breath tickled her ear.

"Kaito…"

The train belched impatiently.

And he leaned in, hesitated, and then gently brushed away her tears with the hem of his sleeve. It was awkward; Aoko could sense his reluctance in touching her. As if he was afraid of getting too close. Aoko closed her eyes and savoured his touch, however miserly doted it was. Hating herself for her weakness.

"Take care of yourself." His hand unthreaded from hers, pulling away. With one last, wistful glance, he stepped onto the train. The doors slid behind him with a soft click, swallowing the last of the boy from sight.

"No-"

The train hissed warningly, jerking into motion, and started prodding along the train tracks. Tearing her legs from the ground, Aoko began to jog alongside the train, one hand stretched out.

"Kaito - I -"

Her voice was wobbling, unsteady. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she hastened to a brisk jog. She could see Kaito through the dusty glass. For a second he looked surprised, and then he hastily reached up and unbolted the windows.

"Aoko - "

The wind whisked his hair in a frenzy wreath around his face. He was shouting, she caught the word "home" and something halfway between "tree" or "free" - the rest were drowned by the wind whizzing by her ears. The train was accelerating, she couldn't keep up. It was now or never. Collecting all her air in one final breath, her feet stilled, and she cupped her hands around her mouth -

"Kaito - you're the biggest _baka _in the world!"

His eyes might've widened - she wasn't sure. The body of the train sped past her, followed by the tail - and there was no way to tell if he had heard. Her cheeks wet with tears, Aoko crumbled to the ground, hugging her knees to her chest. Her feet hurt. Her eyes hurt. The ground hurt.

"...I love you... _idiot._"

The train was a single dot in the horizon, its long tail trailing lazily behind, wrapping the comma into itself.

---

The sun was shining brightly when she stepped out from the train station. The crickets chirped a merry song of summer. Ginzo would be just waking up now. She should get home and prepare lunch - a late breakfast for the man. There were chores to be done.

Nothing had changed.

It was blistering hot. Her sandals clacked on the familiar path, the clattering of the wooden soles fading to lighter raps on the earthy road. Along the way, she could hear the distant gushing of water, mothers yelling for their children to settle down and wash up for lunch. She passed by Wataru's house, a dimly lit lair that squatted to the side. Without looking, she knew that the old women was idling behind the hedges where she pretended to trim the leaves, one rabid eye cocked for potential gossip material on the street. There was a rustling of something; then a wrinkled, angular face poked itself out from behind the topiary.

"_Aoko-chan_! Was that Kaito-kun I saw you with earlier?"

The knot nudged back up into her throat. Aoko felt herself forced a polite smile. "Ah, yes, Wataru-san."

The woman's eyes slanted in sympathy, wringing the scissors keenly in her hand. (Aoko noted the eerie resemblance to a praying mantis).

"I see... and Kaito-kun just left?"

"Yes."

"Oh... that's too bad. You've got such a pretty face, Aoko... it's not good to keep yourself locked up in the house all day. You're a nice girl, I'm sure there are plenty of suitors knocking down the door begging for a date." The woman licked her lips. "You're... what, turning 23 this year, Aoko-chan? Perhaps it's time to settle down with a nice man. I've known Ginzo forever, and I know that he would want nothing more than for his daughter to be secure and happy -"

"That's all right, Wataru-san," Aoko said politely. "I'm quite content, actually. I'm afraid finding a husband isn't one of my top priorities."

There was a brief pause. "I see..." She smiled, the smile not reaching the eyes. She let out a sharp laugh. "Silly old me... seeing you and Kaito-kun growing up, you know, I've always thought you two would end up together. Guess this old noggin' isn't quite at pinpointing young loves anymore.... Should've have guessed when Kaito-kun left town after graduation. You know how it is; some silly girls always give away their virtues too soon... and then the boys simply skip out on them and never come back." Aoko felt her stomach clench. The old woman leaned in, her eyes glittering. "But you're a smart girl, aren't you, Aoko-chan? I can tell. And I know several young men who would kill to have a wife like you. And think about it - you can quit your job and just put your feet up and let your husband take care of -"

"_No_."

It came out louder than she had expected. Aoko's hand flew to her mouth, stunned.

Wataru's face immediately pinched inward; her eyes narrowed to slits as Aoko felt them roam over her body, settling pointedly on her abdomen. "You know... I was wondering... Kuroba-san passed away several years ago. He wouldn't have a home to return to now. Did he spend the night at yours yesterday, _Aoko-chan_?"

"I have to go home, Wataru-san," Aoko cut off firmly, her voice stronger than she felt. "Tousan... you understand."

"Aoko-chan -"

But she did not stay. Knowing that she was going to pay for her rudeness with an onslaught of town gossip starring hers truly the next day, Aoko turned back toward the road. Wataru had a lucrative enough imagination; the truth would only ruin her fun.

---

It wasn't Kaito.

The orange tree loomed over her.

Without even realizing it, Aoko was standing in Nakamura's orange orchard. She blinked, trying to figure how her feet had carried her there without her recalling having making the specific turns. The ghost of a boy's laughter rang in her ears.

_"Kaito, you're not doing something bad to the tree, are you?"_

It had seemed like ages - a lifetime, perhaps, that one messy-haired girl had stood under the very tree, urging an equally unkempt boy back down to earth.

_"Kaito, everyone's looking for you!"_

She still was.

Kicking off her sandals, Aoko winded her hair tightly into a ponytail. Rubbing her hands a bit before testing them on the first branch, she grabbed hold and climbed.

It couldn't be Kaito.

The branches seemed to multiply every time she glanced upward. Through the thicket of leaves she could just make out the sunlight fragmented among the foliage. Ignoring the nagging ache in her arms and legs, she rose upward steadily. The leaves thinned; the cracks of gold between the leaves grew gradually. When Aoko finally reached the hearty branch where she and Kaito had fallen back on earlier, she hesitated, then, with a small grunt, she clambered one step higher.

And felt her heart stop.

"Oh, _Kaito_..."

Among the whorls, the wobbly lines that fell, rose, and collapsed again and traced around one another and into each other, morphing into in one continuous loop, the initials - **NA** and **KK** - were inscribed.

In a circle.

Numbness hit her like a tidal wave. Shaking, she stepped back, sinking back onto a nearby branch. Something tumbled from from her pocket. With a trembling hand, Aoko grasped onto the tiny silver of fruit. She slipped the orange into her mouth.

It was sweet.

**A/n: Alas, it was Kaito. I'm sorry if anyone was hoping that it was Shinichi in disguise. I've hidden all the pitchforks so there would be no penguin-hunting today. *flees* **

**On another note, a sequel to Orange Tree is in the works. ^^ Possibly tying on some loose ends in the story… the "how" of bipolar!Kaito come to be - if you will. And delves deeper into the "why".**

**And many thanks for everyone who followed the story/reviewed ~ I hope you guys had as much fun reading as I had writing it. ^^**

**(And yes, I quoted Winnie the Pooh.)**


	8. Omake

**Omake**

_"Hmm - nice omelette."_

_"Kaito!"_

_Before the girl could react, the dark-haired boy had somehow stole away the golden roll from the bento, bounding across three desks in a row while happily gobbling down the prize. There was a loud chorus of "awwwww" from a gaggle of girls sitting nearby._

_"Kaito, you already have your bread! Stop stealing other people's lunch!" The girl protested, the chopsticks tightening in her grasp with an ominous crack._

_"Ah, but stolen kisses are always the sweetest," the boy quoted, grinning - almost arrogantly, perched on top of the filing cabinet._

_Feeling her cheeks flame, the girl tried to cover it up with a scowl. "Yeah, well - I licked the omelette - so there!"_

_"Fine, I don't mind." The boy shrugged._

_From somewhere in the room, someone shouted through a mouthful of rice, "You guys - just get married already!"_

_"I - what - guh - yea-yeah right! I would rather marry a monkey than marry Kaito!" Flustered, the girl turned around stuck out her tongue at the boy._

_"Hm... and _I _would rather marry someone who doesn't wear blue underwear on Tuesdays."_

_As quiet as a cat and twice as nimble, the boy had somehow leapt down from the filing cabinet and sneaked behind the girl, flipping latter's skirt with a casual flick of the wrist._

_"KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAITO!!"_

_Laughter ensued. _

_It was another typical day at Ekoda High, Class 2-B._


End file.
